


i dream of you (in colors that don't exist)

by hanyauku



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Unhealthy Relationships, broken kihyuk, hanahaki, kihyuk are married, sad!kihyun, this is also me trying to learn how to make things sad, uhhh this is really angsty, wonho shows up a lil randomly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-10 21:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyauku/pseuds/hanyauku
Summary: kihyun makes music but minhyuk stops dancing to it(in which kihyun will never stop loving minhyuk)





	1. Chapter 1

Yoo Kihyun begins dying on the sort of day that shouldn’t exist.

It’s December, sleeting snow and rain, and he's sitting in his living room, cross legged on the floor. A single candle sits on his coffee table, casting a soft glow over the papers in front of him. The storm killed the electricity before he was even halfway through composing his latest song, but Kihyun is always quick to find solutions. His pen hovers in the air, scribbling little lines over the sheets of music.

He checks his wristwatch just to be sure  – it’s half past nine.

Minhyuk is late.

Kihyun lifts his head, staring out at the swirling wind and messy, chaotic snow through the window in his apartment.

These days, Minhyuk is always late.

A siren blares somewhere in the distance, and Kihyun watches the light bounce off of his walls, casting an eerie red glow on the walls.

And then, from somewhere deep within the shadows of his apartment, phantom hands creep under his skin, grasping at his insides and squeezing his lungs. His heart constricts in his chest, throat dry and raspy. Kihyun’s fingers fly to his neck, clawing at his throat in haste, nails raking down the pale skin. 

The tension piles up in his chest, building and overflowing like the sand trickling in an hourglass.

When he coughs into his hand, his palm comes back red and yellow – blood-stained sunflower petals tumbling from his mouth into his outstretched fingers

 

-

 

Kihyun twists the wedding band around his finger as he blows out the candle, flicking the light switch on.

The sunflower petals lay at the very bottom of the kitchen trash, under a layer of paper towels and tea bags.

He gives his wristwatch another glance, brows furrowed.

Minhyuk is very late.

Another cough works it’s way up his throat and Kihyun doubles over, clutching at the petals as they pour from his lips, splutters of yellow petals decorating his hands and the floor.

Kihyun stares at the sunflower petals, startlingly bright against the dark wood of his flooring. Sunflower petals, warm and lively, seeking the sun. Sunflowers that seam adoration and devotion, of pure and meaningful love, whose petals are like silk, blood staining the edges.

Kihyun startles at the sound of the front door clicking open, quickly scooping the petals off the floor, hands disappearing behind his back. 

Minhyuk steps in through the front, his back to Kihyun, steps a little messy. 

“Bye now!” He waves giddily to whoever is outside the door, words a bit slurred, movements uneven.

The person mumbles something Kihyun can’t decipher, stepping backwards until his back meets the wall.

Minhyuk nods in response, giggling a little before pushing the door shut, staggering. He turns around, smile brighter than Kihyun has seen in  _ months _ .

Kihyun watches as Minhyuk’s eyes meet his, that sunshine smile slowly slipping off, replaced with a strained one.

“Kihyun,” Minhyuk nods, shrugging his jacket off. 

Kihyun responds, voice small. “Welcome home.”

Minhyuk looks back at him, gaze a bit softer, but smile strained nonetheless. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Went out with Hyunwoo again?”

Minhyuk hesitates, eyes nervous as he gnaws on his lower lip. “Yeah . . . I mean, as the head of accounting I feel like I should be making sure he feels comfortable as the new guy.”

He’s been the ‘new guy’ for the past eight months. Kihyun shoots him a weak smile. “Oh. Well, did you eat?”

Minhyuk opens his mouth to speak, but a cough rises up Kihyun’s throat, hard and sudden. His hand flies up to cover his mouth and catch the petals before Minhyuk can see, crushing them in his palm.

“You’re sick?” Minhyuk’s brows furrow, lips pursed with worry, visible even through the haze of alcohol. It’s genuine.

Kihyun feels his nails pierce the petals, blood seeping into his palms. He clears his throat a bit as his fist tightens around the petals, a sort of satisfaction growing in his chest at their destruction. There’s a sadistic magnificence in their beauty – painful and consuming.

“No, I’m fine,” he answers, chest constricting painfully. Minhyuk smiles at him then and nods, so Kihyun figures it really is all fine.

 

-

 

It’s nearly midnight by the time Kihyun makes it back into their shared bedroom. The petals are flushed down their toilet and his mouth is rinsed free of blood, but Kihyun still feels the slightly metallic taste lingering in his mouth like a bad memory.

He pulls the covers up and slides under the sheets, curling into the freezing mattress. Minhyuk’s back is facing him, hands hooked over the edge of the covers.

He isn’t wearing his wedding ring.

Kihyun stares at his bare hand, the light imprint of a lingering promise present on the skin.

He falls asleep to the sound of piercing silence and his own breaking heart.

 

-

 

Kihyun wakes to the sound of Jooheon’s too-loud voice over the phone saying he’s got “big news”, but Jooheon the sort to get excited over very small things so Kihyun takes his time getting ready.

Kihyun makes his way out of his bed and to his bathroom, palms flat against the countertop as he sags, blinking blearily at his tired reflection.

He runs a hand down his face, licking at his lips tentatively as he opens his mouth.

It’s normal – void of sunflowers.

He furrows his brows.

A finger comes to press down on his tongue at the back of his throat, carefully. The reaction is automatic.

Kihyun gags, choking, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as the petals shoot up and out of his throat. 

He stares at the petals, panting as the metallic taste of blood settles into the crevices of his mouth.

Their yellow skin decorates the sink, before he scoops them up carefully and flushes them down the toilet.

 

-

 

That morning, the television set tells Kihyun he’s dying.

He’s swiping his butter knife over the slice of toast in his hand, while the news plays in the background.

Nobody really knows why it’s started, this recent outbreak.

Kihyun’s hands still, eyes fixated on the screen. He watches the news segment quietly as clips of bloody flowers pouring out of people’s mouths flash across the screen.

They call it an epidemic, a new plague of sorts. In Japan, they give it a name. Hanahaki.

Kihyun turns off the television set and picks up his jacket, slipping his shoes on as he walks out the door.

 

-

 

Jooheon’s fingers drum evenly on his expensive wooden desk, the rhythm matching the headache settling in Kihyun’s head.

“Guess what,” he breathes, excitement lacing his voice in varying shades. 

Kihyun breathes in and presses his fingertips to his temples. “What.”

“My agency said they’d let us collaborate.”

Kihyun’s eyes fly wide open at this, hands falling from his temples. “Really? How? I thought it wouldn’t work.”

Jooheon laughs, dimples deep. “They’re open to it, considering the award shows are rolling around and us working together also means us getting a bigger slot for a collab stage.” He leans back in his chair and presses his fingertips together. “It’s also good because I know you’ve been going through some . . . writer's block.”

Kihyun sighs and rolls his shoulders back, nodding. “It’s been rough.”

“At least you have Minhyuk.” Jooheon takes a sip of his coffee, noisily slurping through the straw, brows waggling. “Your  _ muse _ .”

Kihyun clears his throat and shoots him a strained smile. “Yeah, it’s just been difficult writing things lately.”

Jooheon nods in understanding. “It gets like that, but things get better.”

Kihyun’s smile falters a bit. “I hope.”

They spend the rest of the day locked in Jooheon’s studio, hunched over his computer, layering tracks.

 

-

 

That night, Kihyun makes dinner.

“So,” he begins, breaking the suffocating silence, “how’d things go at the office?”

Minhyuk startles a bit, eyes flitting up nervously. “Things were fine.”

Kihyun pauses, his chopsticks halfway up to his mouth. “You were late again today.”

“Yeah, well,” Minhyuk tugs at his collar, “it’s just that Hyunwoo needed some help with his presentation and–”

“You’ve been helping him a lot lately,” Kihyun interrupts, brows furrowed. “Why don’t you invite him over for dinner? I feel like I’ve heard so much about him.” 

Minhyuk gives him an indecipherable look, hesitating. “ . . . Yeah,” he finally says, voice careful as he picks at his noodles, “I could do that.”

Kihyun nods quietly. “How about tomor–” He’s seized by a sudden fit, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he bends forward, shielding the petals that tumble from his lips. When he looks up, Minhyuk’s brows are creased with concern. 

Kihyun doesn’t really know why he keeps it all a secret, but a part of him – a really big part – knows he doesn’t want to find out what happens when he finally tells Minhyuk.

So he settles for crumpling the flowers in his hand and smiling.

“That’s a bad cough,” Minhyuk starts, reaching forward with his hand to press cool fingertips against Kihyun’s forehead. 

Kihyun’s eyes slip shut and he revels in the way Minhyuk’s skin feels pressed against his – the first time in a long while.

“Well,” he breathes, eyes still shut, “it’s winter. It’s not like  _ it’s sunny  _ anymore.” Kihyun cracks an eye open, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he looks up.

Minhyuk’s face is still, eyes blankly boring into Kihyun’s, before a wave of understanding washes through his irises and he smiles. “Right. It’s not  _ sunny _ .” The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes though, an Kihyun doesn’t miss the way it took him a second too long to smile.

Like he had to remind himself.

 

-

 

The next day brings another rush of sunflower petals tumbling from his mouth and writing session with Jooheon.

“I think we could go the ballad route,” Jooheon mutters, the eraser of his pencil caught between his teeth as he rocks back and forth on the stool in Kihyun’s kitchen. “I think it’d be nice for winter.”

Kihyun hums, pulling a box of instant coffee out of one of the cupboards. “It would. Might suit Seungwoo’s voice.”

The coffeemaker whirs, steaming water trickling out into the mug as Kihyun leans against the counter, stirring the coffee mix in carefully.

“Where’s Minhyuk?” Jooheon asks, looking up from his laptop. “He doesn’t usually have work on Sundays.”

Kihyun’s spoon stills, teeth gnawing on his lower lip as he casts his gaze to the floor. “He’s with one of his coworkers working on some presentation.”

Jooheon’s eyes glimmer with understanding as he nods, turning back to his laptop. “I forgot how much adult life has changed us. Back when you guys first started dating, you were always together.”

Kihyun feels his chest constrict, lips shaking. 

He and Minhyuk loved and were once in love and once fell in love with each other. Kihyun remembers back when they first got together, seven years ago, back when Minhyuk smiled like the sun and Kihyun revolved around it like the earth.

He thinks he and Minhyuk fell in love with each other in a way that the mountains and oceans and skies and even the universe envied. Kihyun remembers long dates in the park, quiet nights cuddled in a blanket, late night drives, fingers interlaced. They fell in love like the giddy, young teenagers they once were, who believed in soulmates and true love. 

Kihyun remembers back when he thought their love was written in the stars, because it couldn’t be anything but infinite.

Then, he’s dragged back into the present day, where he builds conversation in the jagged edges of uncomfortable silence and searches for happiness in empty smiles.

His throat feels dry and broken when he finally finds it in him to respond. “I think a lot has changed.”

Jooheon looks up, forehead creased with confusion. “A lot?”

“I mean,” Kihyun deliberates, searching for the right words, “you and Changkyun . . . you guys aren’t the same anymore, right?”

Jooheon gnaws on his cheek, lips pursed in thought. “I guess we’ve . . . grown? But other than that, I think we’ve become more comfortable with each other.”

“Comfortable?” Kihyun wraps his arms around himself, leaning against the counter. “What do you mean?”

Jooheon sighs, leaning back a bit in his stool as he clasps his hands. “We’ve just . . . grown together. We’re past that stage of confusion and stuff, y’know? It’s not about the passion anymore. I’m just . . .  _ home _ when I’m with him.”

Kihyun feels his breath catch in his throat.

Jooheon flashes him a grin. “But you already know about that. Getting married with Lee Minhyuk of all people.”

A cough pulls its way up his throat and it’s so bad Kihyun has to excuse himself, socked feet slipping over the hardwood floor as he runs to the bathroom, away from Jooheon’s eyes, marred with shock and concern.

He slams the door shut and flips the tap on, body curling forward as bloodied petals pour from his lips. It’s bad this time, worse than Kihyun has ever known it to be, and he knows the sound of the tap water running hasn’t drowned it out when he hears Jooheon pounding at the bathroom door, voice layered in shades of worry.

“It’s,” Kihyun coughs, heaving as another burst of petals shoots up his throat, “it’s fine!” His throat is raw, burning, and the acrid taste of blood in his mouth makes him dizzy. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

His fingers come up to wrap around his throat, massaging at the sides as more yellow petals float down from his lips and into the toilet bowl. They’re bigger this time, brighter and more open, the tips tinged with blood. Another wave of nausea forces its’ way up Kihyun’s throat when he flushes the toilet, watching the petals swirl.

He rinses his mouth out by the sink, staring at his reflection. Kihyun runs a hand down his face, haggard and gaunt, before he opens the door.

Jooheon is leaning against the wall outside, immediately rushing forward when he hears the bathroom lock click open.

“It’s fine,” Kihyun sighs before Jooheon can say anything, silencing him with a wave of the hand. “I just have a bad cold.”

Jooheon frowns, shaking his head. “Hyung, normal colds aren’t like that.”

Kihyun’s forehead creases with frustration.  _ Why can’t people just mind their own business?  _ “That’s why I said it’s a  _ bad _ cold.”

Jooheon shoots him a look. “It’s bad. You need to see a doctor.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes and pushes past Jooheon. “Fine I will, but first,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way towards the kitchen, “let’s finish the song.”

Jooheon heaves an exasperated sigh, following after him. “I’m surprised Minhyuk hasn’t forced you by now.”

Kihyun clears his throat, lifting his mug back off the counter with shaky hands. “Yeah, well, he has a lot on his mind these days.”

Jooheon gives him a strange look, but doesn’t say anything, instead opting to click at more clips on his laptop.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kihyun continues, rambling at this point, “I know he’s swamped with work.”

Jooheon looks back up. “I know, hyung. I didn’t say anything.”

Kihyun pulls his chin back at this, mouth snapping shut with a near audible clack. He nods.

“Just make sure you’re not sick on your anniversary,” Jooheon adds, lower lip wedged between his teeth as he furrows his brows, focused on his laptop. “That’d suck.”

Kihyun sucks a breath in and nods. 

Their anniversary. 

It’s not that he’s forgotten – it’s just that these days there doesn’t really seem much to celebrate. 

“–when he got you those ugly bright coats?” Jooheon’s voice rips Kihyun’s mind back into focus. “God, I can’t believe he thought those were cute. You guys looked like matching stoplights.”

Kihyun smiles faintly at the vacant memory of rainy walks in the park with bright yellow coats. The smile fades a bit when the image of two musty yellow coats pushed at the back of his closet, collecting dust, also registers in his head.

He clears his throat. “ _ Cute _ matching stoplights.”

Jooheon snorts. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

They let the conversation fade at that, working on the song for another two hours before Jooheon leaves.

 

-

 

It’s only five minutes after Jooheon leaves that Kihyun remembers he has to make dinner for not two, but three tonight.

He’s halfway through slicing the carrots when he hears the front door click open, Minhyuk’s bright laughter filling the apartment.

“Oh my god,” he giggles, head tipped back as Kihyun walks into the living room, hands clasped, “You looked so lost I nearly cried!”

The man next to him, tall and broad and sturdy, flashes him a smile, eyes disappearing into crescents. “I didn’t know what to do!” His voice is sweet, rich and gentle, and his lower hand comes to rest on Minhyuk’s lower back as they both toe off their shoes.

Kihyun feels the familiar phantom feeling creeping up his lungs.

He clears his throat and they both look up. “Hi! You must be Hyunwoo! I’ve heard so much about you!” Kihyun gushes, voice saccharine sweet as he walks forward, hand outstretched.

Hyunwoo’s eyes widen a bit before he smiles, catching Kihyun’s hand in a firm handshake. “All good things I hope.”

Minhyuk giggles a bit, smacking Hyunwoo’s shoulder, and Kihyun thinks it’s the most laughter these walls have heard in a year.

They follow him into the kitchen, Minhyuk swinging a leg over the stool as he props his elbow up on the counter. “I think,” he starts, leaning into his palm, eyes trained on Hyunwoo, “this was the best presentation we’ve ever made.”

Kihyun turns his back to them, biting down on his lower lip as he listens to the light tinkle of Minhyuk’s laugh. It’s addictive, like sunlight and happiness, and all he can think of is how much he’s missed it and how it isn’t even directed at him.

“Hey, Kihyun,” Minhyuk calls, ripping Kihyun out of his daze. “What’re we having?”

Kihyun startles at how  _ normal _ Minhyuk sounds, his voice free of polite strains and awkward pauses. He turns around stiffly. “It’s just some kimchi stew and beef. Jooheon came by today and I got sidetracked.”

Hyunwoo’s eyes widen and he leans forward. “Jooheon? Like Lee Jooheon?”

A light giggle bubbles up Kihyun’s throat. Sometimes he forgets that Jooheon’s famous and he, by some strange rule, is also famous. “We’re composing something right now.”

Minhyuk nods, picking an apple out of the fruit basket, fingers tossing it back forth between his palms. “You guys work well together.”

Hyunwoo just stares, mouth agape. “You didn’t tell me about this, Minhyuk!” His shoulders shake in earnest and Kihyun laughs at how endearing he looks.

Minhyuk just shrugs, a soft smile playing at his lips. “And say what? ‘Hi I’m Minhyuk and I know famous people’?”

Hyunwoo smacks his arm and grins. 

They both look at each other, eyes soft and glowing and Kihyun has to look away because even though he’s in his own house with his husband, he somehow feels like he’s intruding.

(the petals caught in his throat are ignored)

 

-

 

Minhyuk sits next to Hyunwoo, leaning forward as Kihyun pours him a bowl of soup.

Kihyun glances at the empty seat next to him and forces the petals in his throat down.

“So Hyunwoo,” he clears his throat, setting the bowl of steaming soup down in front of him, “a special someone in your life? A lucky girl?”

Hyunwoo’s spoon freezes, halfway from the bowl to his mouth. He looks up at Kihyun with an unreadable look, as if hesitating. A thick tension fills the room and Kihyun feels it creep around his heart. “Nobody right now,” he finally answers, after what seems like hours. 

Kihyun nods and gives him a stiff smile. “Right.” The petals build up in his mouth and this time he can’t force them down, especially when he watches Minhyuk shoot Hyunwoo a soft smile. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” He gets out before he’s rushing out into the hallway, stumbling towards the bathroom. Kihyun barely gets the door shut before he’s choking on bright yellow petals, stained with blood. 

His body is doubled over, heaving, unable to even make it to the toilet. Kihyun drops to the floor, fingers curling into the fists as tears stream from his eyes. His throat burns and his body shakes but nothing is as overwhelming as the sound of his own heart shattering.

It’s made of the look in Minhyuk’s eyes, soft and loving – directed at Hyunwoo.

Kihyun heaves another unsteady breath, waiting as the last heave of sunflower petals cascades from his lips. He sits there, back pressed against the bathroom door, and wipes a trickle of blood that seeps past his lips. Sunflower petals decorate the bathroom floor, a splash of yellow and red on the clean, white floor.

This time Kihyun forces himself to move, gathering the petals in his shaking fingers. He drops them in the toilet, staring at the bright red streaks of blood on the floor. It’s like he’s frozen for a moment, locked in a period of lethargy and fog. 

Kihyun’s arms move almost robotically at this point, finding clean paper towels underneath the sink and dampening them.

He sweeps the blood up, face blank, mind empty. The blood dries from red to pink to nothing and with every wipe, Kihyun feels a piece of himself disappear.

The paper towels go in the trashcan, facing down so the blood isn’t visible, and the toilet is flushed. When Kihyun looks up again, eyes scanning the bathroom, it’s like nothing ever happened.

He rinses his mouth in the sink, wiping down his face and drying it on a towel.

By the time he has his hand on the doorknob, exhaling heavily as he swings it open, he can hear Minhyuk and Hyunwoo talking happily.

He pads through the hallway, peeking out behind a wall. 

Minhyuk has his chin propped up in his hand, spoon caught between his teeth as he smiles. He looks positively  _ radiant _ , eyes alight – he looks . . .  _ happy _ .

Kihyun’s eyes shift to Hyunwoo’s tanned, sturdy frame. He looks adoring, hands wildly gesturing as he tells Minhyuk a story, bright and vivid.

When the petals creep back up his throat, he lets them fall into his hand with a soft cough. He can feel the smoothness of the sunflower petals grace the palm of his hand, as he squeezes them and bunches them into the pocket of his jeans.

“Sorry about that,” he hums, walking into the room with a fake smile stretched across his face. “Nasty cough I’ve got this winter.”

The fragility in the room breaks in that moment, like thin ice, and Kihyun feels himself plunge into cold water when Minhyuk turns to look at him and the smile slips away.

“That’s bad,” Hyunwoo finally says, eyes flitting back and forth between Minhyuk and Kihyun. 

Kihyun stares at Minhyuk, the smile on his lips starting to hurt. “You think you could take me to the pharmacy tomorrow, honey?”

Minhyuk’s casts him a blank expression and then clears his throat. “Yeah, sure.”

Kihyun hums a pleased tune, turning to Hyunwoo. “He’s really the most caring husband I could ask for.”

Hyunwoo shifts a bit uncomfortably in his seat and smiles stiffly, face stuck in an almost painful expression.

“It’s our anniversary soon,” Kihyun continues, eyes falling to the cold soup in front of him. “I’m so excited! Married four years.”

Minhyuk chuckles weakly and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I am too.”

Kihyun doesn’t miss the look Hyunwoo gives Minhyuk.

 

-

 

“Something wrong?” Minhyuk asks, leaning against the wall as Kihyun submerges his hands in apple scented dish soap and scalding water. 

Hyunwoo is long gone, taking with him every smile and laugh Minhyuk has.

Kihyun doesn’t look up, lathering another plate with soap. “Just the cold.” He sniffs for added effect and rubs his nose on his sleeve, carefully avoiding his soapy hands.

“You haven’t seen a doctor?” Minhyuk starts, brows drawn together. 

“Don’t need to,” Kihyun immediately cuts him off, scrubbing intently at a plate. “It’s just a cold. That’s why we’re going to the pharmacy tomorrow.”

Kihyun is positive it can’t be anything bad. After all, the news isn’t very trustworthy these days.

It’s probably just a cold.

Minhyuk nods, pushing himself off the wall. “Alright.” He walks forward, pulling the sponge out of Kihyun’s hand. “In the meantime,” Minhyuk continues, carefully shifting Kihyun out of the way with a warm hand pressed to his lower back, “I’ll do the dishes for you.”

That night, Kihyun falls asleep to the sight of Minhyuk’s back, wide and strong and certainly incapable of ever leaving him.

 

-

 

Kihyun steps into the pharmacy, exhaling into the scarf wrapped around his neck. He hears the jingle of Minhyuk’s keys behind him, followed by the soft patter of footsteps before his tall, gangly husband is next to him.

“So,” Minhyuk begins, looking left and right, “where’s the cold medicine?”

Kihyun turns to look at him, mouth and nose hidden behind his scarf. “Behind the first aid, I think? I’ll go ch–”

“I’ll go,” Minhyuk interrupts, waving a hand, “just go sit on one of those benches or something. You look like death.”

And before Kihyun can say anything, he’s off.

A quick look around the room is all Kihyun needs before he’s waddling down the aisle to the prescriptions waiting area, nose buried into his scarf as he settles into a chair.

“–for the last year or so,” the television set above him hums, switched to a news channel.

Kihyun looks up, watching as a pretty reporter with bright lips gestures vaguely at a diagram preimposed on the screen behind her. 

“In fact,” she continues, “the death toll has begun increasing.”

The camera pans to an interview, the same reporter sitting across from an old man in a white coat. 

“Finding the cause . . . that was one of the most difficult things,” the doctor says, shaking his head. “It’s not like there’s a way to  _ measure _ feelings. One-sided love . . . it’s all together a new branch of science for us.”

The reporter nods understandingly, pointing at the screen. “Unrequited love is the cause, but in terms of a cure, there’s been a breakthrough, yes?”

Kihyun’s breath catches in his throat.

_ Unrequited love. _

“It’s becoming a bigger issue,” the man croaks, leaning forward in his seat. “Hanahanki . . . there’s a cure, but not everyone wants it.”

Kihyun’s fingers twitch.

“What kind of cure?” The reporter asks, bright lips pursed as she awaits an answer.

The man hesitates, humming slowly. “It’s a surgery. Removes the flower and its roots so it can’t grow.” He points to an x-ray on his computer, turning the screen. A dark outline in the center reminds Kihyun of himself, of his own lungs. “The flower grows.” the doctor continues, zooming in on it. If Kihyun squints, he can make out the individual petals.  _ It’s very pretty _ , he thinks distantly. “And when it grows too big, it blocks the airway and people die. But some people still refuse the surgery.”

The reporter smiles and Kihyun stares at her bright lips, a headache settling in. 

“Then why do people refuse it?”

The doctor looks up and runs a hand down his face in exasperation. “It comes at the cost of losing any and all feelings for that person. Memories will remain but they become almost . . . distant. Like they happened to someone else. Falling in love again after it also become difficult.”

Kihyun shakes in his seat, forcing the petals in his throat down and away.

When he looks up and finds Minhyuk’s long legs walking towards him, the only thing he can think of is u _ nrequited love. _

“Hey,” Minhyuk sighs, holding up a box of pink cough syrup, “I found it.”

Kihyun stands shakily, exhaling through his nose, and nods, willing away any thoughts other than getting his cough syrup and getting home.

 

-

 

Jooheon’s socked feet pad across Kihyun’s living room as they both settle into the couch.

Minhyuk is out late again with Hyunwoo working on some presentation or another, and Kihyun feels like alcohol on this fine Wednesday night. It’s a coping mechanism, he assures himself, stacking cans of beer and a tall bottle of whiskey on his coffee table. A coping mechanism.

Kihyun tips his head back, chugging the last of his beer, tossing the empty can across the room. 

He isn’t sad anymore – he’s just numb – but somehow, he knows that numb is worse.

“I think,” he hiccups, turning to Jooheon with a sick smile, “we should make this song a real tear-jerker.”

Jooheon shoots him a smile and downs the rest of his beer. “Or we could make a happy song about loving.”

Kihyun snorts, cracking open a bottle of whiskey. “Sounds fake.”

Jooheon puts a hand on Kihyun’s shoulder, his voice careful. “Hey man,” he hums, lines etched across his forehead, “what’s going on?”

Kihyun shakes Jooheon’s hand off with a grunt, tipping the bottle back to chug. He pulls it away from his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and hold out a finger. “A concept. You promise him love but break his heart at the crack of dawn.”

Jooheon frowns, a bit distorted under the haze of alcohol. “That’s sad.”

Kihyun giggles, and falls back. “It’s real.”

“Is something going on with you and Minhyuk?”

Kihyun laughs again, but this time tears well in his eyes and he’s in hysterics, laughing and crying and laughing because it’s all so so wrong right now.

“Do you know,” he cries though the laughter, tears carving trails of despair down his cheeks, “I don’t touch people anymore? I don’t hug I don't hold hands –nothing!” Kihyun laughs, downing more whiskey, ignoring the way Jooheon keeps trying to calm him down. “You know why? Because as long as his hands are the last ones that touch me, he somehow still exists!” He chokes back another wave of tears and sunflower petals, laughing. “Isn’t that so fucking funny?”

Jooheon looks more concerned now, prying the bottle out of Kihyun’s hand and pulling him off the couch.

“Isn’t that funny, Jooheon?” Kihyun insists, giggling hysterically, tears blurring his vision. “It’s like I’m his garden and his smile is the flower and his voice is a blossom–”

He’s cut off by Jooheon unceremoniously dropping him into his sheets, pressing cools fingertips to his forehead.

And he knows Jooheon is saying something, something possibly important, but he doesn’t pay attention, vision blurry.

“It’s fine, though,” Kihyun laughs brokenly, eyes slipping shut. “It’s not like it matters at this point. I just miss him I think. And his smile.”

He doesn’t bother opening his eyes again because he knows he’ll only find pity in Jooheon’s.

(Jooheon leaves a half hour later and Kihyun stumbles back out of bed to finish the whiskey)

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> minhyuk is made of sunshine and kihyun revolves around him like the earth

Kihyun hums as he stirs the pan of noodles, light on his feet as the radio plays some generic pop tune. 

“I don’t understand,” Jooheon says, voice tired. “You were so sad last night, Kihyun. I’ve never seen you like that.”

Kihyun pauses, one hand reaching into the refrigerator before he shakes his head, straightening with a fake smile.

“Minhyuk and I are just going through a road bump, silly. We’re in love.”

“Okay,” Jooheon says, voice low, “but it seemed like it was more than just a ‘road bump’ last night.” He gives Kihyun a look laced with uncertainty and concern.

Kihyun hates that look.

“It’s not,” he waves off, turning back to the stew bubbling on the stove, trying to calm his own heart. 

“Okay, well I mean–”

“I said it’s not!” Kihyun shouts, turning to look at Jooheon. “It’s fine!”

Jooheon’s eyes widen and he backs away, hands raised in defense. “Look, I’m sorry if it’s hard but I really think you and Minhyuk should talk and–”

“I think you should go,” Kihyun interrupts, crossing his arms across his chest.

Jooheon’s eyes narrow. “Are you . . . kicking me out?”

Kihyun turns his back and stirs the clamor of pots and pans on the stove. “Minhyuk is coming home soon. And I don’t want to have this conversation with you before my anniversary dinner with him.”

He listens as Jooheon huffs, turning around and stalking out the door, slamming it behind him.

Kihyun has other things to worry about.

Another hour goes by before Kihyun finishes cooking; he sets the table, candles lit, lights dimmed, and smile ready.

It’s going to be a good day – Kihyun can tell. He hasn’t thrown up flowers at all since he’s woken up.

It’s going to be a good day.

So when Minhyuk comes home, Kihyun is ready, dressed in a pressed white shirt and jeans, waiting on the sofa.

“Happy anniversary, honey,” Kihyun hums, stepping forward to place a quick peck on Minhyuk’s cheekbone.

Minhyuk smiles, polite, and hands Kihyun a bouquet of red roses. “Happy anniversary,” he repeats, voice monotonous.

Kihyun’s hands shake a bit as he takes the bouquet to the kitchen, pulling a vase out from the cabinet. “I made your favorites,” he calls snipping the ends off and dropping them into the vase. “I even made pizza  _ myself _ .”

No response comes, but Kihyun’s used to it.

He pours water into the vase, filling it nearly to the top, and carries it back out to place on the dining table.

Kihyun finds Minhyuk sitting at the table, playing with the silverware, slouched in his seat.

“Hey,” he whispers, setting the vase down at the center, “I missed you today.”

Minhyuk’s eyes slowly drag away from his silverware, an empty smile on his lips. 

Kihyun’s throat itches.

“I . . . “ Minhyuk drifts, lips parted, “I missed you, too.”

It feels hollow, like Minhyuk’s smiles.

Kihyun slides into the seat across from Minhyuk and folds his hands on the tabletop. “I made pizza and chicken and pasta! Pulled out all the stops for you!”

“Ah,” Minhyuk rubs the back of his neck and gives him a weak smile, “Hyunwoo got me a big lunch so I’m still a bit full.”

Kihyun’s smile falters. “Still, you’d never turn down pizza, right?” The plead laced into his voice sounds even more desperate than it did in his head.

Minhyuk hesitates, staring into Kihyun’ eyes. Seconds turn to minutes as the clock ticks by, Minhyuk’s face etched into an expression of uncertainty.  Finally he seems to relent, sighing. “Yeah, I guess.”

Kihyun feels his shoulders relax and he smiles, relieved. “Here, give me your plate!”

The petals that tickle his throat are forgotten in the wave of respite.

 

-

 

“How was work?” Kihyun asks, slicing off a piece of his chicken. “I know you’ve been working hard on that presentation.” He brings the fork to his lips, biting off the chicken as he chews, smiling.

Minhyuk looks up with a vacant smile. “It’s fine. It’s been fine.”

A silence follows.

“Well, I’m sure it’s better than fine,” Kihyun reassure, the smile on his lips a bit more pained this time. “After all, with all the hours you and Hyunwoo have put in, I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

Minhyuk’s eyes flit up at the mention of Hyunwoo’s name and a faint glow radiates from his irises, excitement apparent. “Yeah, Hyunwoo’s been great, honestly, he’s so sweet and ready to offer help –”

“I’m sure he is!” Kihyun interrupts and this time he has to look down at his plate because the petals in his throat are more persistent and it’s harder to force them away. A distant warning bell rumbles at the back of his head, but he’s too focused on willing the petals down to give it any attention. “Jooheon and I still have a long way until the song is finished.”

“Oh,” Minhyuk says, the light in his eyes dimming, “that sucks. I know you hate leaving things for the last second.”

Kihyun nods and the room grows silent save for the sound of silverware scraping over porcelain plates.

 

-

 

It’s midnight by the time Kihyun’s finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. His fingers are dry and stiff from having been stuck under soapy, hot water, and he thinks he can hear his back creak as he pads into their shared bedroom.

Minhyuk sits on the edge of the bed, tie loosened, hands clasped. His hair is mussed and he stares down at his hands with an unreadable expression that somehow intensifies the ache in Kihyun’s heart.

“Hey,” Kihyun whispers as he slips onto the bed and loops his arms around Minhyuk’s shoulders. His heartbeat presses into Minhyuk’s back and the scent of Minhyuk’s cologne wafts up into Kihyun’s nose.

It’s the closest they’ve been in so,  _ so _ long.

Kihyun shudders gently as Minhyuk’s breath ghosts over his fingertips and he presses his chin to Minhyuk’s shoulder and whispers gently.

“I love you.”

Minhyuk’s shoulders tense almost immediately and Kihyun’s throat screams in agony because there’s only so many times you can swallow sunflower petals.

“I love you, Minhyuk,” he repeats, voice coated in pain. “I love you.”

Minhyuk’s fingers twist into Kihyun’s and try to pull his wrists away, but Kihyun shakes his head and blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes, tightening his grip.

“I love you so much,” he gasps and this time his voice cracks like the bleeding crevices in his heart. “More than anything.”

Minhyuk finally manages to twist his fingers away as he turns around. Kihyun hiccups and brings his hands up to his eyes, frantically swiping away his tears.

“I know you love me,” he sobs, shoulders shaking as he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I l – love you and you lo –  _ love _ me.”

And through the blurred vision of tears and desperation he sees Minhyuk’s face marred with shock.

“H–hey, Kihyun,” Minhyuk stutters, crawling closer on the bed and lifting the sleeves of his white button up to Kihyun’s eyes. “It’s okay stop cryi–”

“You love me, Minhyuk,” Kihyun gasps, shoulders wracking. “You love me?”

And he presses his face into the juncture of Minhyuk’s neck and shoulder, shuddering out hiccuped sobs that parallel the shattering of his own heart.

Minhyuk’s hands lift, hesitantly, and he presses his fingertips carefully to Kihyun’s shoulders, rubbing uncertain circles into the shaking shoulders. 

“ . . . Yeah,” he finally whispers into Kihyun’s hair, lips grazing over the nap of his neck. “Yeah, I – I love – I love you.”

Kihyun’s heart breaks even more because none of that warmth is there, none of that sunshine that’s just  _ so _ Minhyuk – it’s empty.

But he curls even more into Minhyuk’s warmth because after all, empty words are better than nothing.

“I love you,” Kihyun whispers, pulling back gently, little broken gasps slipping past his lips. He lifts his chin and leans forward, gently brushing his lips against Minhyuk’s in the softest of touches. 

Minhyuk jolts and Kihyun pulls back a bit, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.

They stare at each other, Minhyuk’s brows gently furrowed, lips parted, Kihyun’s eyes shaking.

Then Kihyun pushes himself forward again, reluctantly and slowly. His lips ghost over Minhyuk’s and neither of them move for a moment, but Kihyun feels a rush of despair course through his heart and he surges forward.

Their lips connect in a bruising kiss, laden with pain and ache, and Kihyun whimpers.

Minhyuk’s fingers are stiff and reluctant as he folds them around the curve of Kihyun’s cheeks, cupping them gently. It feels like he’s forgotten how to hold Kihyun, hands shifting awkwardly as the leaves closed mouth kisses against Kihyun’s mouth.

Kihyun reaches up with his hands, nails digging into Minhyuk’s shoulders as he leans back and back and back, falling into the soft mattress dragging Minhyuk with him.

Their apartment is silent, save for the breathy gasps that slip past Kihyun’s lips as he winds his fingers into Minhyuk’s shirt rutting up against him.

Minhyuk shudders out a hitched gasp and presses down against Kihyun, lips pulling away.

His fingers are quick and light as he deftly unbuttons Kihyun’s shirt, leaving soft kisses against the unmarked skin. 

From there it’s a blur of Minhyuk pressing cold, lubed fingers against his ass and Kihyun rutting down on them.

Minhyuk has his body memorized at this point, fingers immediately curving up to hit that one spot that has Kihyun’s back arching, eyes rolling.

It feels clinical, distant and robotic, and Kihyun feels locked in the strangest of paradoxes because it’s the closest and furthest he’s been to Minhyuk in months.

Kihyun hisses and writhes, eyes slipping shut because it’s better than seeing that dead look in Minhyuk’s eyes.

Minhyuk’s fingers twist and curve as he fucks two fingers into Kihyun’s ass and bends down to fit his lips around Kihyun’s cock.

A broken gasp rings in the room and Kihyun fists his hands into Minhyuk’s hair, tugging frantically as he draws closer to his release.

The fingers in his ass and the wet heat around his length disappear and Kihyun listens to the crinkle of a condom before he opens his eyes.

“Don’t,” he croaks, wrapping his fingers around Minhyuk’s wrist. “Don’t.”

Their eyes lock for a moment and a series of emotions pass through Minhyuk’s irises, ones that Kihyun can’t quite place his finger on. And then Minhyuk places the condom back on the nightstand and lines his length up with Kihyun’s ass, pushing into him with one fluid motion.

Kihyun closes his eyes again and drags his nails down Minhyuk’s back as he adjusts to the feeling, teeth gritted because it’s been too long.

Minhyuk presses his fingers into Kihyun’s hips and ruts forward carefully, hesitant and gentle.

Kihyun curses and whines, bucking up at the feeling as he pulls Minhyuk down to whisper a breathy ‘again’.

And then Minhyuk’s fucking him, steady and deep and Kihyun feels those petals but he doesn’t know why because Minhyuk is there and he’s with him and it should be perfect but it’s not.

The coil in Kihyun’s stomach tightens, building and building as he moans into the silence of their apartment. Minhyuk’s soft grunts accompany his whines and they build into a symphony that mimics pure anguish in a way that leaves Kihyun feeling so, so  _ alone _ .

But then Minhyuk’s fisting a hand around his cock and his vision turns white as his lips part to keen a high pitched moan, white ropes painting across his abdomen. It only takes Minhyuk one, two, three more snaps of his hips to finally come, a sudden warmth filling Kihyun.

He doesn’t miss the way Minhyuk keeps his eyes shut the whole time, or the way he robotically pulls away to lay down next to Kihyun.

They don’t touch for the rest of the night and Kihyun wallows in the cold that wraps around his body as he cries himself to sleep.

 

-

 

Jooheon comes by again the next day, and this time, no matter how persistent Kihyun is, he doesn’t leave.

“Tell me the truth,” he says, voice deep. “What’s going on?” His hands are latched tightly around Kihyun’s shoulders as he uses a hip to keep the front door propped open, despite Kihyun’s futile attempts to push him back out.

Kihyun brushes Jooheon’s hands away. “Listen,” he mutters as he turns on his heel and walks, not bothering to wait for Jooheon to follow, “I know it seemed bad that night but everyone goes through rocky times.” Kihyun stops in front of his sofa, turning his laptop around. “Besides, we have bigger things to focus on – like working on the song.”

Jooheon’s mouth pops open before his eyes narrow and he shakes his head, looking away. “Whatever you say, Kihyun.” His voice is resigned, almost tired, and Kihyun almost feels bad.

“Well I do,” he mumbles as he rearranges the blankets on his sofa and nestles into the pillows. “Come sit,” his fingers tap the space next to him on the sofa as he pulls his laptop into his lap.

Jooheon sighs and sits, fingers crossed in his lap. “Did you come up with something?”

“Not really,” Kihyun starts as he taps a new sequence into his laptop, “but since it’s winter and all that we could make it the opposite of what everyone expects – we could make it a passionate love song.”

Jooheon stares. “I guess, but there’s also the option of making a love song – just not passionate.”

Kihyun’s brows furrow and he turns to look at Jooheon. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s just the whole idea of having some big passionate love. You know, we could make it more comfortable, more soothing.”

Kihyun snorts and turns back to his laptop. “Everyone wants to be someone’s Icarus, Jooheon.”

“Well, sometimes you have to become your own sun,” Jooheon responds easily, leaning back into the sofa.

Kihyun’s hand freezes on his mousepad and his throat itches. He hasn’t coughed up petals in 48 hours – an impressive feat considering the petals have gotten bigger and more frequent in the past two weeks.

“You know what?” He shakes his head and slams his laptop shut. “Forget it – let’s just make a depressing winter ballad about heartbreak – really draw out that sadness.”

Jooheon gives him a look. “Which kind?”

“What?”

“It’s – there’s three types really,” Jooheon begins, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “The first, I guess, is when someone is reckless with your heart. Treats it like it’s replaceable and it ends up breaking and shattering. The second is when you break someone else’s heart, because there’s a heartbreak that comes with looking into someone’s eyes but having them look away. . . “ he trails off, lower lip wedged between his teeth.

“And the third?” Kihyun pushes after a few moments of silence, face unreadable.

“And the third,” Jooheon finally says, sighing, “is when you have to watch the person you love fall in love with someone else, because there’s no pain like searching for love where there is none.”

Jooheon falls silent after that and the apartment fills with a tense quiet that’s only broken when Kihyun coughs into his hand, curling the petals he can feel in his fist.

“Still got that nasty cough?” Jooheon asks, brow raised.

Kihyun clears his throat and rubs his neck. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I got some cough medicine so it’ll be gone soon.”

“Alright.” Jooheon sounds resigned at this point, too tired to say anything else or make any semblance of an argument.

“Let’s just do a love song,” Kihyun mutters, shoving the petals into the pocket of his sweatpants and tapping on his mousepad. “Make it all sappy and cute. People only like that about love anyways”

Jooheon hums. “I suppose. People measure love somewhere in between waiting and letting go.”

Kihyun’s chest tightens and his lashes flutter. “Yeah . . . waiting and letting go.”

 

-

 

They get half of the composition done by six that night, when thunder starts to rumble and Kihyun’s windowpanes shake.

Jooheon glances outside at the flickering skies and glances at his phone. “I should probably get going,” he says, standing. “Changkyun might get worried if I don’t.”

Kihyun nods, carefully clicking through the sequence and saving it. “Yeah it might get worse out there so you should.”

“Also,” Jooheon adds, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he walks to the doorway, slipping his feet back into his shoes, “Changkyun and I are having a holiday party next weekend. You and Minhyuk should come.”

“Uh, y–yeah,” Kihyun croaks, rubbing his socked feet over the hardwood floors. “We don’t have plans so yeah.”

He gets a curt nod in return before Jooheon steps out of the apartment and he’s left with silence that rings too loudly.

 

-

 

The next weekend, Kihyun and Minhyuk venture out into the city to Changkyun’s apartment. He and Jooheon basically live together, but they still have separate apartments for some godforsaken reason.

“I think it’s that building?” Kihyun mutters, squinting at the tall high-rise. Half his face is hidden behind the scarf wrapped neatly around his neck and his hands are buried in the pockets of his parka. Even though the heat in the car is cranked up all the way, he still feels a strange cold envelope his frame, through the layers of warmth.

Minhyuk leans forward a bit, fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, peering into the distance. “Yeah? I think? It’s been awhile since we’ve visited so I don’t really remember.”

Kihyun nods and twists his fingers in his lap, coughing softly as they pull into the parking garage.

“You alright?” Minhyuk hums as they walk into the building, blasted with a cold gust of air as the doors to the lobby swing open.

“Uh, I,” Kihyun stutters, clicking the elevator button, “yeah, I’m fine. Stupid cold.”

Minhyuk nods and they step into the elevator soundlessly, standing in complete silence as it rises to the tenth floor.

“Jooheon having a lot of people over?” Minhyuk asks suddenly as the elevator doors slide open and they step out. “Like a big party?”

Kihyun shrugs and twists his wedding band. “Not sure. He just told me about it.”

It turns out, Jooheon invited a lot of people.

Too many people, Kihyun realizes as he steps into the apartment, greeted by a giggly, drunk Changkyun.

“Take this!” Changkyun slurs, pushing a glass of what appears to be champagne into his hands. “I love it!”

Jooheon laughs, low and deep as he wraps an arm around Changkyun’s waist and pull him close. “There’s food in the kitchen!” He shouts over the loud Christmas music, gesturing to the hallway behind him. “Lots of it!”

Kihyun rubs a hand over his arm and shivers as he turns to look at Minhyuk. “Are you hungry?”

Minhyuk just shrugs, leaning down to whisper into Kihyun’s ear. “I’ll go look.”

And before Kihyun can respond, he’s off, disappearing into a mass of foreign bodies as he maneuvers through the crowd. 

Kihyun turns back to look at Changkyun, but finds him long gone. Jooheon stands there, hands pushed into his pockets as he gives Kihyun an unreadable look. It’s starting to piss Kihyun off.

“What?” Kihyun hisses, scratching his throat. “What is it?”

Jooheon shrugs. “You guys usually always stay together. That’s all.”

Kihyun shoots Jooheon a glare and tugs on his scarf. “People grow up, Jooheon.” He wipes a hand over his forehead and sighs. “Listen, I’m not feeling too great, we’ll talk later.”

He moves before Jooheon can respond, pushing past the throngs of people to the back of the room where he pushes his way out onto the balcony.

The hectic noise fades to a hum and Kihyun sucks in a gulp of fresh air, heaving as he tightens his fingers around the glass of champagne.

It’s cold and his nose turns red, but the alcohol warms him a bit, blurring the feeling of frozen toes and shaking fingers.

“Hello,” a voice hums pleasantly from somewhere behind Kihyun, and he nearly spits out his drink.

Kihyun whips his head around, eyes wide. His gaze falls on a tall man with broad shoulders and thick arms that threaten to burst out of his leather jacket. He smiles, bright and radiant, and Kihyun falters.

“O–oh,” Kihyun hiccups, quickly stumbling back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know–”

“It’s fine,” the man murmurs softly, twirling the glass of champagne in his hand. “I don’t own this balcony.” There’s a hint of amusement laced in his voice and it feels like a hushed melody, wrapping Kihyun in comfort. “My name is Hoseok,” he adds, eyes quickly flitting up to meet Kihyun’s. “I’m a friend of Changkyun.”

Kihyun nods as he straightens, turning around to hook his arms over the railing. “I’m Kihyun.”

Hoseok follows, sighing as he loops his arms over the railing, a cloud of breath fanning out from his lips. “It’s a pretty loud party so I had to escape.” He takes a sip of champagne and turns to look at Kihyun. “What about you?”

Kihyun shrugs noncommittally and downs the rest of his drink. “Dunno. It’s just nice to get away.”

Hoseok pauses and swirls the champagne. “Same here.” He straightens, and for a moment, Kihyun thinks he’s leaving, but then he’s shrugging off his coat and draping it over Kihyun’s shoulders. 

And while Kihyun usually questions kind gestures from people he doesn’t know, the appearance of colorful swirls of ink down Hoseok’s arms have him speechless. Vines flow into flowers that trail into wisps of petals that float down the curves of his arms in wisps of pink and blue and green. 

“Take a picture; it lasts longer,” Hoseok murmurs.

Kihyun’s ears burn bright red and he bites down on his lower lip, embarrassed. “I’m sorry I–”

“Don’t be,” Hoseok mutters, sipping from his glass, “it’s better than what some people have said.”

Kihyun’s brows furrow. “What?”

Hoseok casts him a teasing grin. “Do you mean to tell me that you, Yoo Kihyun, know nothing of the great and tragic Hanahaki disease? Artiste extraordinaire Mr. Yoo Kihyun?”

Kihyun feels his breath catch in his throat and his body grows numb.

Hoseok takes it as an affirmation. “I got the surgery a month ago,” he mutters, like it’s nothing big. “I guess it was kind of hard at first, dealing with it. But I had to, y’know?” He turns to look at Kihyun, eyes dark. “It was killing me.”

Kihyun inhales shakily and turns his head to look into the apartment. Towards the back of the room, leaning against a wall, he can see Minhyuk tapping away at his phone, and by the way he’s giggling, Kihyun has a pretty good idea of who it is.

“I guess it was hard,” Hoseok continues. “The hardest part is always watching the person you love fall in love with someone else.”

Kihyun stumbles back and grips the railing tight.

“It’s just too late sometimes,” Hoseok mutters, softly, under his breath.

Petals rise in his mouth and this time Kihyun can’t stop them, waving hastily at Hoseok as he pushes his way back into the apartment, fighting through the crowd to find the bathroom. 

The moment the door shuts, he lets his body fall against the toilet, a burst of petals escaping his lips.

A sort of numbness always takes over his mind whenever he’s like this. Like the pain and tightness around his heart fades into the background and the only thing he feels is the burn of his throat.

He isn't sure how much time he spends in there, retching up bloodied sunflower petals, but the tightness of his heart returns and he knows he has to go back.

His hands are clammy and trembling as they wipe the blood off his lips, and Kihyun falls back, legs splayed over the floor of the bathroom.

Kihyun’s head keeps throbbing and his body keeps shaking as he tries to calm himself down. His mind drifts to Hoseok’s words, mulling over them through the haze of dulled pain.

_ ‘It was killing me’ _ , he had said, but Kihyun knows that’s crazy. Minhyuk would never hurt him that bad. Never.

But somewhere, through the dim ache in his chest, he seeks solace in the fact that there’s a ring on his finger that mimics the possession of his heart by Lee Minhyuk.

And that’s something Son Hyunwoo will never have.

 

-

 

Kihyun’s toes turn to ice as he presses his fingertips against the cold window of his apartment, checking the streets.

It’s especially cold today, a blizzard due the next morning, but Minhyuk is even later than usual. Kihyun glances as the time on his phone and shudders, pulling his hoodie tighter around his frame. 

His nose is cold but he presses it up against the window, peering down into the street.

And through the swirls of wind and flurries, he watches two tall figures walk through the haze.

He watches as Minhyuk presses himself close to Hyunwoo, arms linked together. It’s cold outside, after all.

He watches as they draw close to the entrance of the apartment building, steps slowing. It’s a long walk, so their feet are probably tired.

He watches as Minhyuk leans up and links his arms around Hyunwoo’s shoulders, drawing his face close. They don’t kiss – they just linger there, faces brushing together, arms wrapped around each other’s bodies.

And somewhere, from inside Kihyun’s apartment, phantom hands creep back around his lungs and push up against his heart, petals bursting out from behind his lips. A sob wracks through his body as he falls to his knees, heaving up bloodied yellow petals that litter the floor. 

And through the blur of the burn in his throat, he cries as he feels his heart pierce and break because it doesn’t mean anything anymore.

The ring on his finger means Minhyuk is his, but that doesn’t mean anything anymore – not when Minhyuk’s heart is wrapped in Hyunwoo’s hands.

The way Minhyuk smiles means sunshine, but it’s never for Kihyun.

And the way he loves Minhyuk doesn’t mean anything because even though Kihyun’s heart beats for Minhyuk, Minhyuk doesn’t love him anymore.

Kihyun sits there on the floor after the bursts of petals slow to a stop. 

Their love means nothing and he knows it doesn’t, but even so, as he hears the lock to the door click open, he rushes up to his feet, pushing the petals behind the sofa, and wiping the blood off the corners of his lips.

“Welcome home, honey,” Kihyun smiles through the sharp bite of blood and heartbreak.

Because even if Lee Minhyuk doesn’t love him, Kihyun’s heart beats for Minhyuk and he’s never letting go of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments much appreciated!


End file.
